Farming is not a job. It’s a lifestyle. — Scot Galliher
From the fields of Silver Mountain Hay in Millerton, Scot Galliher monitors moisture levels in horse feed, oversees the restoration of historic farmhouses and discusses the architectural details of the towering red barn that has become a local landmark. Two decades ago, he was working on Wall Street after leaving a career analyzing satellite data for a NASA subcontractor. Today, Galliher owns one of the area’s most distinctive agricultural operations — a farm he purchased not simply to grow hay, but to preserve open land threatened by development.
Unlike many farmers who inherit generations of family land, Galliher arrived at agriculture through conservation. After returning from abroad, he already owned another nearby farm and often passed the Silver Mountain property while driving his wife to the Wassaic train station. At the time, development pressure in the region was intensifying, and a developer had reportedly been close to purchasing the land before the deal fell through. Galliher stepped in soon afterward.
“I bought the farm to prevent that from happening,” he said.
That philosophy still shapes the operation today. For Galliher, farming and land preservation are inseparable. The open fields and rural landscapes that define the Harlem Valley survive only because working farms continue to exist, he argues. Without economically viable agriculture, open land eventually disappears — either overtaken by development or left unmanaged.
That long-term vision is visible across the property, particularly in the massive red barn that has become one of the area’s most recognizable agricultural structures. After the original dairy barn deteriorated, Galliher began studying historic barns throughout the Northeast before working with an architect to design a replacement that reflected both traditional agricultural design and modern functionality. The finished structure includes clerestory windows that flood the interior with natural light, an Olympic-sized indoor riding arena and infrastructure designed for a future equestrian facility. “I wanted to build an equestrian barn,” Galliher said.
Although the scale of the operation is impressive, Galliher speaks about farming in notably practical terms. Much of what he knows about hay production was learned through direct experience.
“Farming is largely learned through experience,” he said. “You learn by doing.”
Silver Mountain Hay in Millerton.Provided
Producing premium horse hay, he explained, requires careful attention to weather patterns, moisture levels, grass composition and timing. A sudden storm can destroy thousands of dollars’ worth of hay in less than an hour.
Galliher approaches haymaking with the precision of an engineer. Moisture levels must be carefully controlled to prevent mold, and different horses require different nutritional profiles. While many horse owners prefer softer second-cutting hay, Galliher noted that first-cutting hay is often nutritionally superior. “It is very difficult to make 50,000 feed-quality bales of hay year after year,” he said. Still, despite the technical demands of the work, Galliher describes farming less as an occupation than a way of life. “Farming is not a job,” he said. “It’s a lifestyle.”
He speaks enthusiastically about the smell of fresh hay after a successful harvest and the satisfaction of watching trailers return to the barn at sunset after long summer days in the fields. And after years spent in finance, he says he does not miss Wall Street very much.
“The reward system here is different,” he said. “I think it’s richer. I think it’s more human.”
Today, Silver Mountain Hay stands not only as a working agricultural operation, but also as a reflection of Galliher’s broader philosophy — that preserving rural landscapes requires more than admiration. It requires active stewardship.
